A World After War
by PhoenixOwl0905
Summary: Drama ensures at the end of WWII. Germany is alone and left to contemplate all of his mistakes and the monster the war turned him into. Emotions and alcohol cause him to snap. When Italy comes to apologize, Germany can't help but feel even guiltier that he'd hurt the man he loves most. GerIta (otp) Warnings: (yaoi/ boyxboy)


Germany arrived home. Though it felt different this time. It seemed dusty, somehow and dark, impossibly dark. He went to turn on the lights, only to be reminded that the power lines weren't working at the moment. Frustrated, he walked over to the ice box, grabbing the warming beers that he'd kept a secret for so long.

With a sigh, he snapped a cap off of one of the bottles and chugged it all at once.

Six bottles later he still sat in the living room, staring right at the fire glowing. Everything would be different now. He and Prussia were to be separated and forced to pay the heavy burden of the aftermath of war. And for what?

Nazi memorabilia covered Germany's house. Red symbols with the damn swastika etched in every single one. A portrait of the fuhrer hung above the fireplace, proud and commanding. _The Monster_. Germany thought. He got up, swaying drunkenly closer to the picture.

"How could you? You promised so much. You came and saved us when we had nothing, and because of that we allowed you to rise to power. We followed you, we put you up on a pedestal, and gave you everything we had. You promised us a new Germany. You promised us food, and financial stability, and . . . _freedom_." Shaking his head, he turned from the picture. His red eyes burned with tears, clutching the glass bottle tighter in his hand. "But you didn't give it to everyone! You secretly took the freedom, the homes, the families, and the lives of so many! But we blindly followed you. At the end of the day I'm the one to blame." Germany turned towards the picture again.

"Everything they said, everything they called me . . . is true." His face contorted into a gruesome expression of anger. "I did everything I was supposed to! I was the perfect soldier! And in turn you turned me . . . into a monster!" The glass bottle flew from his hand, smashing against the portrait. Amber-gold liquid dripped down the fuhrer's face, dripping down the canvas, and into the fire. It hissed as it caught.

Germany surged forward, reaching up and ripping the frame from it's position above the mantle. Strong hands broke the wooden frame, ripping the painting, tearing it and crumpling it. He took the shreds and threw them into the fire. The last piece was the man's face. He placed this section in the fire, allowing him to see that face get consumed by the flames.

"Burn in hell." He muttered.

But it wasn't enough. The whole house was still a reminder to him of why everything was going wrong in his life. The statues, the flags, everything. He attacked everything. He made quick work, tearing down, ripping, smashing, and burning anything that reminded him of the past. All over the house, his office, which he tore apart piece by piece. The kitchen, which he stripped of all the fine German cuisine that would now be considered shameful.

Eventually he got to his room. He looked for something, anything to tear down, anything to rip apart. But his room was almost barren of anything other than a lamp and some books. Also a picture frame that sat on his nightstand. He picked it up, eyes glossing over his, Japan's, and Italy's face.

_And to think, Japan is still fighting so strongly out over seas. I wonder if his boss made him a monster too. And Italy. He's gone too. I pushed him away and was angry with him when he tried to get out. It's not his fault. I see that now. I don't blame him anymore. The man I . . . and now I'll never see him again. And it should be this way, I don't deserve to have him, or Japan, in my life. I deserve to be alone._ He placed the picture face down, turning on the bed so that he was facing the window. I deserve every misfortune that should fall my way.

"G-Germany?" A meek voice called out from the doorway. He knew who it was, he'd heard that voice a million times. It had been so long since he heard it in person, it sent chills down his spine. He stiffened. "Germany!" Italy cried once more, running over to the bed. He didn't touch Germany, he didn't do anything other than stand there. He was waiting for the German to respond to him, to acknowledge him. In his eyes he saw this lack of response as a symbol of hatred, which burned tears into Italy's eyes.

"Oh Dio, I don't know what to say. I guess . . . I just . . . I'm sorry, for everything." Germany's eyes widened. _Why is he sorry?_ Italy moved over to kneel besides Germany, he placed his hands on his knee, begging, "I'm sorry, I should have stayed with you. I shouldn't have backed down. My boss . . . and Romano . . . it's no excuse, and I'm just sorry. I'm so sorry." Germany turned to him, seeing Italy's head bowed in shame as tears fell from his face. Germany shook his head, placing his hand on Italy's shoulder. Italy looked up at him. Germany took his hand and placed it on Italy's chin, raising it so that he could meet him eye to eye.

How could he put into words that Italy wasn't wrong to leave him. That he was the monster and Italy had every right to hate him and to never want to see him again. That he shouldn't ever see him again. Because he didn't deserve him.

Italy captured Germany's lips hastily, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling in close. Germany was shocked, falling back on the bed accidently, which allowed Italy to climb ontop of him.

"Let me . . . please, please." Italy breathed between kisses as he worked off Germany's shirt. Everything was yelling at the blonde to push Italy off of him, to tell Italy that he didn't owe him this. But at the same time he's wanted this for so long. And Italy was willing. But did that make it right?

"Italy . . ." Germany breathed. He had worked open the shirt, pushing it past his shoulders.

"Do you not want me? Because I completely understand." He began to pull away. Germany shook his head. _No, you mean everything to me._ Italy took his lips once more, pulling off his shirt completely. _Oh Gott, how can I say no to this?_

He wrapped his arms around the Italian, pulling into the kiss as well. He could taste the wine on his lips. _Had he been drinking too? _

Those thoughts had been ignored as Italy ground his hips down, making the German realize how hard he'd been. He moaned into Italy's mouth, biting his bottom lip lightly. Italy let out little sighs of pleasure as he continued to grind down.

Germany's fingers dug into the button up shirt he'd been wearing, ripping it open and revealing the beautiful expanse of tanned, smooth skin. He brought his lips to a nipple, sucking on it lightly for a moment. He couldn't stop himself from moving all over his chest, loving the feeling of his skin and wanting to savor every touch he got.

Italy hastily pulled his shirt off completely, letting his arms fall onto Germany's head. He moved lower and lower until Italy had to scoot off of his lap so that he could bring his lips to Italy's navel.

Everything was so hasty, so hazy. Everything was going so fast, but their powerful desires had been withheld for long enough.

Italy flipped them over, hands reaching to work with the belt on Germany's pants. He pulled it out of the loops, throwing it to the side with a loud clank. Germany kicked off his shoes, letting them fall off his feet and onto the floor as well.

Germany's pants were hanging off of his hips. Italy could see the V and little tufts of blonde hair that lead to where the bulge was. He nimbly ran his fingers slowly down his abs, to his hips and the V until his fingers were hooking under his boxers. He held the clothing in his hands, slowly pushing it down his body.

Germany's erection slipped free. Germany looked at Italy staring at his erection. His gaze never broke from the turgid length, right up to the moment when he wrapped his lips around the swollen cock. Germany let out a hiss,

"Scheisse!" He let out between his teeth as Italy licked and sucked up and down his penis. He eagerly engulfed as much as he could, working up and down. He greedily took in the length as much as he could. Feeling confident, he slid all the way down, letting it hit the back of his throat.

Germany had a hard time restraining himself. Although it was sloppy and inexperience, Germany was also a virgin and didn't have the right to judge anything. Besides, it still felt amazing. And the fact that it was Italy made it that much better. He stared at him, breath coming out in controlled pants.

Italy suddenly pulled off with a gasp and a cough.

"I'm sorry, it was a little too much." Germany silenced him with a kiss, pushing him back onto the bed. He began to lay soft kisses on Italy's bare chest and pressed southward.

He kissed the thin stomach, fingers working with the button and zipper of his pants. Italy panted lightly, tangling his fingers in the slightly messed blonde hair. He pulled off the black pants completely, along with the boxer the man had been wearing, dragging them down his legs. Italy kicked off his shoes so that he could pull them off completely. When he could, he threw the clothing to the side and off the bed, marveling.

Italy's length wasn't as big as his own, he knew that, but it was still impressive. He wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling him up so that Italy's back was resting on Germany's thighs. He pulled Italy's legs over his broad shoulders. He ran his hands softly down Italy's thighs, kissing them. He moved slowly inward, purposefully ignoring the part that Italy needed his mouth at the most.

When he did get to Italy's hot cock, he placed soft kisses on it from the tip to the base. Italy thought that he'd begin to suck him off, but he made no move to indicate such a thing. Germany only continued his path down, kissing Italy's balls until the kissing stopped all together. He could feel his ass being parted by Germany's strong hands. He tried to look up, but threw his head back again when he felt Germany bring a wet tongue along his hole.

Italy let out something between a gasp and a yell, gripping onto the bed sheets harshly, wrinkling them.

Germany looked down at the squirming Italian, who was slipping from his position. Germany moved his hands away from his ass, gripping his thighs to hold him up, and dug his face further in.

There was something animalistic in Germany's eyes that made Italy slightly scared, but at the same time deeply aroused. Germany stared at the Italian as he continued to suck and lick at his quivering entrance. He only broke the gaze when he wiggled further, pushing his tongue into Italy's entrance.

Italy's chest heaved up as he gasped at the sensation. He tried to wrap his legs around Germany's head, or push up closer, but couldn't manage at the angle. Italy's toes curled and his knees bent further.

Germany pulled away, lowering Italy's legs. Italy whimpered,

"Wha . . . Germany?" He flipped the Italian around, pulling his hips up so that he could line up his cock with Italy's entrance. Italy grabbed a pillow, burying his head in the fluffy cotton. Germany pressed his large penis against his entrance, letting some spit fall onto it to act as a lubricant for the absence of the real thing. Italy shivered at the feeling, waiting.

Germany's hands wandered over his body, down his arms and intertwined with his fingers until he was flush against the shivering body beneath him. He placed a soft kiss to his cheek. Once he felt Italy relax he began to push in.

Italy cried out, throwing his head back and into the crook of Germany's neck. Germany placed kisses onto Italy's neck as he pushed further in. Once he was fully sheathed, he pulled back out, slowly, and pushed back in.

"Ngh, wa- . . . wait." Italy cried, burying his head back into the pillow. Confused, Germany pulled himself off of the auburned hair man. His eyes widened in shock when he noticed blood dripping out of Italy's entrance. There wasn't too much, little trickles of the substance, but he was still bleeding.

"I'm going to pull out."

"No!" Italy called. "Just give me a minute." Italy sat there, getting accustomed to the feeling. Germany felt a guilt building up within him. He did this to him. He'd hurt him, again.

"Italy, you don't owe me this."

"No," He began, going to sit up, but his movements allowed a shift that allowed Germany's penis to graze his prostate. Italy cried, throwing his whole body back and onto Germany's.

The blonde was confused at the sudden change. He looked down at Italy who was staring up at him with almost pleading eyes.

"Ah . . . oh, move." He pleaded. Germany needed no other invitation. Pulling out slowly, he slammed back in at the angle Italy had provided. Italy cried out, this time in pleasure. The foreign feeling of having something brush against that bundle of nerves, accompanied by the slightly pleasurable feeling of being penetrated was like nothing he'd felt before.

Germany grabbed his arms, holding them behind his back as he continues to thrust forcefully into his lover. Italy wished that he had been a little more gentle, but he could tell that he was holding back, even if it was only a bit. Besides, it still felt amazing.

The heat that overwhelmed Germany was so incredibly blissful, he felt like he would melt right into Italy. He leaned over, biting and suckling on Italy's exposed neck.

Italy's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned his head back on one broad shoulder. His mouth hung open as huffs of wine scented breath flew out in uneven increments. Germany moaned through each exhale and each thrust forward. His moans were deep and animalistic, but focused. Italy's moans were spontaneous. Sometimes he would let out small whimpers, other times he would let out loud, drawn out sounds.

Germany let go of his arms, pulling out completely to flip the latter over onto his back. Italy let out a surprised squeak that was far too cute for someone who was currently having sex. Germany quickly shoved back into the man, leaning over him, bracing his arms right by his head, and looking right into his eyes. They kissed as Germany began to thrust forcefully once more.

Italy wrapped his arms around Germany's neck, pulling him closer. Germany, in turn, feeling the warmth build up in his stomach, moved a hand and began to pump Italy's own length. Italy let out a gasp into their kiss, feeling something swell in his lower abdomen. Germany moved a hand to grip the shaggy hair in his hand, unknowingly grabbing the curl on the side of his head. Italy cried out as he came on their stomachs.

Germany continued to pound in that sore ass until he came shortly afterwards. He filled the Italian with his seed, staying inside of him just to comprehend what had just happened.

When he pulled out, Italy was half asleep, but he still shivered at the feeling. Not long after, Germany drifted off too.

When he woke the next morning he could feel a throbbing sensation burden in his mind. He mentally cursed himself, not wanting to open his eyes and meet the morning sun. He stretched out his arms, feeling Italy's bare body next to him. His eyes then snapped open.

The memory of what happened last night, the best night of his life, slapped him right in the face. He sat up instantly, ignoring the mild headache brought on by the alcohol. Horror overtook him as he watched the peaceful man.

When he looked over him, he saw the blood from last night on the white sheets. He'd hurt him.

"Oh God, oh God!" He stepped out of the bed, quickly dressing himself, sometimes grabbing the wrong clothes. When he did grab Italy's clothes, he took notice of the wine stains on his shirt. He smelled it. _He did taste like wine last night. Was he drunk?_ He looked over at the sleeping, naked Italian.

Angry with himself, he sat on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, thinking. _How could I? I hurt him, my best friend, the man I'm in-love, in so many ways and now I do this to him?! Are there no boundaries to my carelessness, to my selfishness? I took advantage of him, I hurt him . . ._ Suddenly his face drained of color as he worked everything through in his mind. _I raped him. _

Everything felt dizzy. He felt like he was going to puke. Everything was wrong. He got up, pulling on his shirt and shoes. _I can't burden him any longer. I need to leave so I can't hurt him again. _

After he quickly dress, he moved over to where Italy was sleeping. He placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, placing all the love he carried for the man into it. He placed a small note on the bedside table.

With that and a heavy heart full of guilt, he left.

About an hour later Italy woke slowly. There was a slight throbbing in his head, but it wasn't too painful, just the effects of a couple of drinks and being just about tipsy.

He reached over on the bed for his lover. When his arm felt nothing but fluffy cotton alarms went off in his mind. He sat up quickly, looking around for any sign of his blonde lover. The room was empty, and he noticed that the Germans clothes were gone. He began to call out frantically,

"Germany! Germany!" When no reply came he felt tears swell in his eyes. He slumped back, looking around and noticing the note besides the table. Eagerly, he reached for it, reading the contents,

_Italy,_

_I don't know how I could even begin to apologize for what I've done to you. You've been nothing but kind to me, and I abused your friendship over this God damn war. And I abused you last night . . . I know you must hate me, and I don't blame you. I've gone somewhere where I won't be able to hurt you any longer. _

_Just know that I love you and never meant to take advantage of you, especially in your state last night. _

_I'm so sorry. _

_~Germany _

Tears poured out of Italy's eyes. He curled in on himself, laying back down and covering himself with the sheets.

"I love you too, Germany."


End file.
